Leap of Faith
by Vendetta Vertigo
Summary: Buffy’s senior year at Sunnydale High will prove to be her toughest yet, and considering she lives on a Hellmouth, that’s saying something. Lame summary because I'm trying not to give away plot details. Full summary inside.
1. Unsettling News

Summary: Buffy's senior year at Sunnydale High will prove to be her toughest yet; and considering she lives on a Hellmouth, that's saying something. Human sacrifices, a shady organization, and unlikely alliances are the least of her problems in this alternate version of Season 3. Sorry about the lame/vague summary, I'm trying not to spoil important plot points. Ships will be revealed as the story goes on.

This fic starts directly after _The Zeppo_; however, Angel hasn't come back from hell.

A/N: This story has appeared in a couple different incarnations, but I deleted both of them because they sucked in various ways. This is a completely reworked version, and hopefully it won't die the same unfinished death the other two did. Since the problems with the other two were mostly plot-related, I did an obsessive amount of planning on this one. I'm talking color-coded character charts and detailed chapter outlines through chapter five.

* * *

Buffy's eyes flickered open. She had been dreaming about him again. She rolled over and tried to capture the last fragments of her dream as they slipped away from her. "Oof," she muttered.

"Hey," a soft voice came from beside her bed. Buffy knew that voice. Could it be--? She rolled back to the other side and looked, hardly believing her eyes. Angel was leaning forward in her desk chair, fingertips together, smiling at her. Buffy didn't want to say anything, didn't want to break the spell, but she had to.

"Angel?" she breathed.

"I'm here," he whispered. She had to touch him, had to know that he was real. She reached out her hand.

Buffy was awoken by the loud cawing of a crow outside her window. Her heart sank. Of course it was a dream.

"Buffy?" Joyce called from downstairs. "Are you up?"

"Yeah." Buffy's voice cracked as she said it. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Be right down."

* * *

"Heeeey, Buffy! The Buffster! Buff stuff! What's shaking?" Buffy couldn't help smiling at Xander's enthusiastic greeting.

"Nothing much," she grinned, as they made their way to the front doors of the school. "Anything new and exciting on your end?"

"Are you kidding? This is Sunnydale! Nothing ever happens here. I mean, sure, you've got your occasional apocalypse, but we got that all under control."

"How was patrolling last night?" Willow interjected, slipping her hand into Oz's.

"I didn't go. Faith took over. I, um, wasn't feeling well."

"Are you okay?" Willow asked.

"Yeah, yeah, fine," Buffy assured her quickly. "I just needed some sleep." The image of Angel sitting beside her bed tried to materialize in her brain, but she fought it off. Willow's brow creased.

"Are you sure?"

"Wil, I'm fine. I just had kind of a rough night."

"S'funny, you'd think that a night spent staying at home would be considered less rough than one spent fighting vampires. But that's our Buffy, always trying to shake things up," said Xander. Buffy laughed a little too loudly, and the others looked at her strangely. She cleared her throat.

"So. Um. Where's Faith?"

"Probably in the library with Giles," responded Willow.

"Oh. Shall we?" Buffy gestured in the direction of the library.

"Can't; class," Willow said apologetically.

"Oh. Right. That." said Buffy. "Xander--?"

"Wish I could, Buff."

"Oh. Well. Okay. I guess I'll go there, then. Alone." Buffy split off from the group and headed toward the library.

Moments later, she pushed open the door. Giles was perched on the edge of the table, reading the newspaper. "Hey," Buffy said. Giles acknowledged her, then went back to his reading. "Faith not here?"

"Erm, no," Giles replied, looking up. "I expect she'll show up later."

"I guess." Buffy dropped her books on the table and pulled up a chair. "Anything interesting going on?"

"Not particularly," murmured Giles, turning the page. "Things have been relatively—" He stopped short.

"What? Relatively what?"

Giles was silent, his eyes moving over the page, mouth slightly open. Buffy leaned over his shoulder to look at the paper. Giles shut it abruptly.

"Giles, what is it?"

"I—er. Are you sure you want to see this?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Are you my watcher or my mother? I'm the Slayer. I think I can handle—"

She stopped short as Giles opened the newspaper again. She saw the item he had been transfixed by, and her stomach dropped. She didn't say anything, just turned away and sat back down. Giles closed the paper and placed it behind him. He took off his glasses and massaged his temples.

"Giles, what did that?" Buffy asked quietly.

Giles was still for a moment before replacing his glasses and answering. "It appears to be a human sacrifice."

"Yeah, but what—sacrificed it?"

"The—the, er, markings on the corpses seem consistent with those commonly found in summoning rituals for some of the more—unpleasant demons. And, ehm, while it's possible that a supernatural creature summoned it, it seems far more likely that these people were sacrificed by—by a human."

Buffy was silent. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. "But what if it's like that fairy tale demon? The one that pretended to be those dead kids so everyone would turn against magic?"

Giles sighed. "I'm afraid this is much more dire."

"How much more? Because almost getting burnt at the stake already falls under my definition of 'dire'."

"Well, I—I don't quite know. I've seen sacrifices that involved similar markings, but none quite this—"

"You've _seen?_" Buffy interrupted. Giles looked mildly exasperated.

"In my _books_," he said.

"Oh. So, that mean we're going into research mode?"

"Not quite yet." Giles stood up. "I know a few volumes that may be useful, but I have only a vague idea of where they might be. If you and the others could meet back here after school--?"

Buffy stood too. "Sure, I'll tell them." She sighed. "Does this mean I have to go to class now?"

Giles chuckled. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Darn." Buffy gathered up her books as Giles headed into his office. As she was leaving, she remembered something and turned back.

"Giles?" she called.

"Yemph?" came his muffled reply.

"What about Faith?"

Giles leaned out of the doorway of his office. "What about her?"

"I mean, if I run into her, what should I tell her?"

"Well, you could invite her to help with the research, but…"

"…that isn't really her scene," finished Buffy.

"Yes. Exactly." Giles paused as he was about to re-enter his office. "Why the sudden interest in Faith's whereabouts?"

"I dunno, it's just—I didn't patrol with her last night, and I keep getting this feeling like it was a mistake."

Giles looked concerned. "You think she's in danger?"

Buffy shook her head. "I don't think so. I mean, the rational part of my brain doesn't, but the other part is throwing a paranoia party."

Giles gave a small smile. "I'm sure you have nothing to worry about. Faith is very competent, if a little—er—impetuous. She'll turn up, just be patient."

"I guess." Buffy turned and walked out of the library, trying to ignore the anxious twisting in her stomach.

* * *

Faith came into consciousness with a jolt. She opened her eyes, groaned, and quickly closed them again. The glare of the white walls nearly blinded her. She tried to move, and was infuriated to discover that her arms were trapped in an elaborate straitjacket, and her legs chained to the wall. 


	2. Escape

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone. Not much to say about this chapter, except that there's some language and violence, but that's pretty much par for the course. None of these characters are mine, they belong to Joss, et cetera. 

2

Giles moved among the bookshelves. He trailed his fingertips over the spines of the books, muttering the titles under his breath, considering and dismissing them in the same instant. He took quiet pleasure in the tactile sensation of his fingers on the worn leather bindings. As fond as he was of Buffy and the others, there was really nothing better than perusing the stacks in solitude. Giles pulled a thick volume from the shelf and flipped it open. He scanned a page and was about to put it back when he heard a quiet sob. He looked up, puzzled. Was he imagining things? Another sob. Giles closed the book and replaced it on the shelf.

"Hello?" he called, starting to move in the direction of the crying, which was getting stronger. "Who's there?" The faint scent of a familiar perfume hit him, and his heart skipped a beat. Patchouli. Giles rounded a corner, and there, at the end of the row, was the huddled form of a woman. Even though her dark, cropped hair obscured her face, Giles knew who it was immediately. He knew, but he wouldn't let himself believe it.

"Jenny?" he whispered. The woman didn't respond, just continued to weep. He moved closer, slowly, cautiously. "Is it really you?"

Giles knelt down about a foot away from her. He reached out his hand to touch her face.

Giles woke abruptly, a little dazed. He had fallen asleep on a pile of books in his office. _Good show, Rupert,_ he chided himself. Just then, the library doors swung open and the happy chatter of the Scooby gang drifted into his office.

* * *

Faith massaged her cramped muscles and brooded. She had freed herself from her restraints more easily than she had anticipated, but she was at a loss as to what her next action should be. Faith had already tried everything she could think of to escape. She had shouted death threats and pounded on the walls until her voice was hoarse. She had checked and re-checked the bare walls for hidden doors. She had tried breaking through the walls. Nothing. So Faith was brooding.

She didn't have the slightest idea where she was. Her clothes had been replaced by a hospital gown that ended just above her knees, which added to her confusion. She had no way to judge how long she'd been there, but she'd been conscious for a few hours now. Faith wondered if the Scoobies had even noticed she was gone, and if they had, would they try to find her? _Yeah, I'm sure B and pals will come bustin' through that wall any minute_, she thought bitterly. Faith looked around the room again, making sure no doors had materialized since the last time she checked. Four plain white walls stared back at her.

"Fuck," she muttered out loud. The word bounced off the walls and echoed back to her in a bleak chorus.

Half an hour later, Faith thought she could make out voices coming from outside. She closed her eyes and tried to locate the direction they were coming from. As she got closer, the voices got louder, but there were still gaps in the conversation, and she had to strain to hear.

"…don't see why all this is necessary."

"…may be awake, we… every precaution."

"..in first, don't know… dangerous beyond our…"

A mechanical sliding and whirring followed. Faith tensed. She had heard only three voices, but somehow she knew that there were more present. She was never much for strategy, but she knew that rushing them as soon as they came in the door was her best shot. They may have expected her to be awake, but they wouldn't expect her to have escaped her restraints.

Faith stood, legs shoulder-width apart, hands loose at her sides. Despite having been chained up for God-knows-how-long, she realized she felt physically better than she ever had. She was aware of her body like never before, and every muscle seemed to hum with unreleased energy.

A previously invisible panel in the wall slid back. Two soldiers with semi-automatic weapons rushed out of the hallway and pointed their guns at Faith's chains. Before they registered that she wasn't in them, she attacked.

Faith couldn't remember an easier fight. Maybe it was just that she wasn't used to fighting against humans, but her blows seemed to land with double the impact they had before. She fought like a woman possessed, fueled by rage and adrenaline, letting her instincts take over. More soldiers streamed through the door, but she felled them easily, sometimes with a single blow. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a grey-haired man in a lab coat fumbling with the code to close the door. In a flash, she leapt over the battered bodies of the soldiers and tackled the man. He dropped to the ground, and she came with him. Faith recovered quickly and stood on his chest, jamming a foot into his windpipe.

"What the fuck?" she growled. It wasn't the most specific question, but it summed up her feelings on the situation pretty well. He said nothing, just gasped for breath. Faith brought her other foot down hard on his nose and shattered it. He stopped gasping. "Wrong answer," she muttered, hopping off of him. Faith removed his lab coat and started unbuttoning his shirt. His clothes weren't exactly her taste, but they were better than what she was wearing. From that angle, she could see that she had cracked his skull when she broke his nose, enough so that fluids were oozing out onto the floor.

His slacks were far too wide around her waist, and the flannel shirt hung off her like a pillowcase. Faith shrugged his lab coat over her shoulders, glancing at the ID badge clipped to the pocket. Dr. Angleman. She hitched up her pants and made her way across the hall, where she inserted the card into an alarm next to the door. _Verification password?_ prompted the screen. Faith responded by yanking the handle out of the door, then kicking it down. She ran through corridor after corridor, letting her instinct guide her on where to turn. She finally broke down a door that let to a huge open area, gleaming white and filled with people. Faith didn't have time to sightsee, though; alarms were blaring and she was beginning to draw attention. She broke into a sprint again, running so fast that everything was a blur. She could smell the outside. She was almost free.

* * *

Across town, the wind whispered with magic, and everyone who walked down Crawford Street that day felt it. Blood beating in the ears, a single shiver running down the spine, and a sudden urge to cross to the other side of the street just before reaching the abandoned, overgrown mansion at the end of the road. By the time night fell, the street was deserted, its residents all safe inside their homes. Friendly yellow light glowed out of every window of every house—every house but one. Not a soul saw the flash of blue light that lit up the mansion's windows for a brilliant second before fading away. And no one admitted to hearing the unearthly shouts of an empty house that had suddenly become occupied again. 


End file.
